


too weak to be felt / too heavy to be broken

by Desdemon



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Bondage, Chains, Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdemon/pseuds/Desdemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Totally inexcusable porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too weak to be felt / too heavy to be broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YanaGoya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanaGoya/gifts).



> The sole reason for this fic is YanaGoya's [incredible picture of Guy in chains](http://yanagoya.tumblr.com/post/42146889650/i-think-i-should-be-sorry-but-im-not). I stared at it until it broke my brain and now there are 2k+ words about it. You're welcome, internet. Douchey title required to desperately pretend that this is "literature" and belongs in an archive.

The pure and utter silence after Robin closes the door behind him and turns to find Guy of Gisborne stripped and shackled to a luxurious bed lasts only a few seconds, but it is a very eloquent silence indeed.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Guy growls softly, as Robin tosses his bow onto the bed and unbuckles his quiver.

“Gisborne, after all this time, I’m beginning to think you really don’t know me at all,” Robin says with a grin, equally softly. He leaps up onto the bed in a crouch, light as a cat. “Me, not dare?” They are keeping their voices low, lest the Sheriff and his exotic guests overhear. “Is the Castilian duchess responsible for this? I wish I could shake her hand,” Robin says fervently. “How did she talk you into it?”

Guy has edged all the way back against the headboard, as far as he can get from Robin, and if glares could kill Robin would be talking his way past Saint Peter by now. “One word from me and there will be guards in here within seconds,” Guy warns.

“And wouldn’t you like that,” Robin says, waggling his eyebrows. “Is that something the duchess is saving for later?”

To Robin’s astonished glee, Guy actually flushes, a dark, uneven red that spreads from his cheeks down his neck. The color draws Robin’s attention to Guy’s chest, and then to the rest of him, naked except for a loincloth of silk. He’s not badly formed, Guy of Gisborne. And chains are a much better look for him than a mountain of leather.

“Did you come here merely to see me humiliated, or was there a purpose?” Guy bites out.

Robin returns his attention to Guy’s face. “I came to rob the duchess, obviously. Humiliating you is just one of those little gifts from God.” He smiles broadly, studying the whole picture, the manacled wrists, the iron collar, Guy hunched defensively against the headboard. It’s an unexpectedly exciting tableau. “Is this your choice, what’s happening here?” he wonders curiously. “Or does the Sheriff make his potential patrons at home in even more ways than I imagined?”

“As if I would tell you anything at all,” Guy snarls, turning an even deeper blotchy red. _Lovely_ , says some unthinking part of Robin’s brain, and then he’s moving forward before the thinking part can even contribute any kind of decision.

Guy fights him, of course, quietly, both of them trying not to disturb the silence. He knees Robin in the ribs and brings his manacled fists down on Robin’s back. Robin wheezes but manages to wrench Guy’s arms up and push them against the wall just long enough to slip a chain link through the stone hook above the bed. He skitters backwards in case it doesn’t hold.

It holds. Guy twists and strains toward him, teeth exposed like a dog’s, but the hook stays in the wall and Guy’s arms stay stretched overhead. Robin lets him struggle for a minute, watching him fight to get his breath back, growing more certain by the second that this can only be a very good idea.

“You’re dead,” Guy says, his eyes fairly snapping with rage, “if you don’t get me down. Do you understand me?”

Robin ignores him and wades back through the bedsheets, reaching a hand up towards the manacles. He puts a finger on Guy’s wrist, just under where the metal meets skin. There is a growl of bitter frustration when Guy realizes Robin isn’t going to let him go. Robin traces a light path down Guy’s arm to his side, feeling his skin, warm and perspiring slightly from their wrestling match. Guy gives the undignified twitch of someone trying not to shudder.

“I always thought you were a bit funny, Locksley,” Guy sneers, though there is an undercurrent of wariness in the expression. “Now I know for sure.”

“No,” Robin says, shaking his head. He traces the same path again, this time with a fingernail. This time, Guy does shudder. “You _hoped_ I was a bit funny,” Robin corrects amiably. It’s a thought he’s never had before, but like so many other things, the moment he says it, it becomes true. “You even hoped I’d find you here.”

Guy’s breath is coming more heavily. “And Marian? I thought she was your true love,” he says, the last two words dripping with sarcasm and resentment. “What would she say if she saw her knight in shining armor now?”

“She’d be thrilled. She’d throw a feast,” Robin says, moving his explorations from Guy’s side to the surprisingly solid muscles of his chest and stomach. For someone who hasn’t used a sword for more than threatening villagers in a long time, Guy is keeping himself very fit. Robin fingers the chain that runs from the collar at Guy’s neck to somewhere down beneath the bed. Then he adds, in all seriousness, “She’d probably want to watch.”

Guy throws up his last defense, voice flat with stress. “You’ll be killed if you’re found and I expect the duchess at any moment.”

“Liar,” Robin says simply, and his hand dips down past Guy’s stomach to the silken loincloth. Guy strains mightily to avoid his touch, but his restraints hold fast and he only succeeds in bucking into Robin. Robin grabs Guy’s hip to prevent any more such activity and he slips careful fingers under the cloth. He lets out a soft whistle at what he finds there. “You really have been hoping,” Robin says, wondering idly if there’s anything he _isn’t_ right about.

In response there is a small, pained groan from somewhere above him. Guy is not looking at him but at the ceiling, presumably pretending this isn’t happening.

Robin takes Guy’s cock in hand and begins to work him, gently, just waiting to see how he reacts. For a long moment Guy does nothing at all except breathe and look up. Then, at length, another little groan escapes him. His whole body begins to slowly tighten up, and the stone bedroom fills with the sound of his harsh breathing.

“Stop,” he says at last, and the word is low and broken.

“Stop?” Robin repeats, stilling his movements, holding in his hand evidence that at least part of Guy of Gisborne really doesn’t want Robin to stop.

“Take your hands off me,” Guy says. “Stop this madness, Locksley. Please.” His voice is hoarse, almost wrecked, and the word ‘please’ kicks up such a delicious lust in Robin that he hardly knows what to do.

“If I stop, will you touch me?” Robin asks. He didn’t know he was going to ask, but as soon as he does, it’s all he wants, and he wants it so badly he can taste it.

Guy’s breathing is ragged. “Yes,” he says at last. He still isn’t looking at Robin. “Yes. Just - stop.”

Robin releases Guy’s cock, and Guy hangs his head in relief. Robin rises up on his knees and reaches for the manacles. For a moment they are chest to chest, too close for Guy to avoid Robin’s eyes any longer. He’s trying to assume his usual hooded expression, but there are cracks in the mask - his pupils are blown, and he’s trembling slightly. A slow thrill of desire rolls through Robin, almost suffocatingly thick.

Robin unhooks the chain and sinks back down onto his heels still grasping it, pulling Guy’s hands down to the bedsheets between his knees. Guy hisses a little as blood comes back to his arms, and he flexes all his fingers.

“Now,” Robin says. He cocks his head expectantly.

Guy looks for a moment as though he might say something. He swallows several times. Then he reaches forward and touches the front of Robin’s trousers.

Robin is already in a state of high excitation and has been almost since he saw Guy exposed on the bed. At his touch, however, Robin’s body makes a real effort to do itself one better. Guy reaches for Robin’s laces, manacles clanking, and undoes the front of his trousers. At the first real touch of skin on skin, Robin can’t help moaning aloud. Guy looks up, his expression unreadable.

“Come on then,” Robin says breathlessly.

It’s awkward, Guy’s movements hindered by the chains, and by his own stiffness, but Robin hasn’t felt anything so good in a long time. He can smell Guy, the oils he puts in his hair, the rank salt of his body, and he can feel the calluses on Guy’s palms as they graze over Robin’s sensitive skin. Robin is having difficulty keeping himself quiet.

“Yes,” he gasps in a whisper at least once. “Oh yes.”

His fingers grasp the delicate chain that falls from Guy’s neck. Almost without meaning to, he wraps it once around his hand, pulling Guy’s head down by just an inch or so. Guy’s eyes snap up, and his hands stop moving. He stares at Robin and again Robin thinks he might say something, but his throat simply works soundlessly.

“Back to work,” Robin says softly. He raises his eyebrows.

Several expressions run across Guy’s face, but whatever he may think, he ultimately looks down and renews his efforts. Robin goes a little light-headed with the power of it. He wraps another length of chain around his hand. Guy’s head jerks down another inch, but he says nothing. Robin’s head swims.

Robin begins to twist his hand in slow, luxurious circles, feeling the metal links bite into his skin. Guy’s head goes down, and down, and down. When the chain is thick around Robin’s hand and Guy’s face is almost pressed against his own fingers, a parody of supplication, Robin pushes his hips ever so slightly up. The tip of his cock breaks through Guy’s fist, not quite reaching his parted lips. Robin waits.

Guy stays there, breathing hot on Robin’s skin, for a long moment. Robin moves his hips again, brushing Guy’s bottom lip with his cock. Slowly, almost jerkily, Guy leans the rest of the way down and takes Robin into his mouth.

Robin looks at the ceiling briefly, using all of his willpower not to shout aloud. His grip tightens on the chain, forcing Guy down further. Guy chokes a little, which makes Robin go slightly wild. With a woman that’s a sign to back off, maybe calm down a little, but Robin is looking down at Guy of Gisborne, chained and nearly naked and bent double for him, taking it like a whore, and all he can think about is shoving it down Guy’s throat until he can barely breathe.

He takes a deep, shaky breath. Pulling the chain taut, so that Guy can’t move his head upwards, Robin begins to thrust as gently as he can make himself. Guy chokes again and bucks a little, trying to pull away for air, but Robin holds onto the chain, and eventually Guy works out a way to breathe with Robin’s cock filling up his mouth. Robin feels something wetter than spit and realizes that Guy’s eyes are watering. He looks at the ceiling again, and a high whine escapes his throat before he can fight it down.

If they were alone, Robin would shout, and gasp, and moan long and loud, the way he likes to. He wouldn’t just grab Guy’s thick black hair, like he’s doing now, he would pull it, hard, jerk his head back, slam him against something like a wall or a tree, tie him down, bite his skin, open him up and fuck him so hard...

Robin gasps and goes exquisitely, gloriously blind for a long second. When his brain returns, at length, to his body, Guy has managed to jerk back a few inches and he is coughing as quietly as he can manage. Robin’s seed is dripping down his mouth and chin.

An echo hits Robin and his body seizes so hard it’s almost painful. Robin can’t help it; he releases the chain and gets up on his knees, pulling Guy up by the shoulders. He wipes Guy’s chin with the back of one hand, making Guy’s eyelashes flutter, and then he leans in for a kiss.

Guy jerks his head to one side. “No,” he says, voice a garbled rumble.

“No?” Robin repeats, trying to seek out his eyes.

“No,” Guy repeats harshly, clearing his throat. He stares hard at a place on the bed beyond Robin.

“At least let us be even,” Robin says, reaching down to seek out Guy’s erection.

Guy elbows him swiftly in the stomach. Robin wheezes and backs off, holding up both his hands. “Okay,” he gasps. “You don’t want to be even, and I respect your feelings on that.”

“Get out,” Guy growls at him. Having his throat fucked seems to have added a whole new octave to Guy’s voice, which should be sexy, but instead makes him sound extremely threatening.

“Guy,” Robin says, feeling that there must be a more amicable way to end this encounter.

“Out, or I shout for the guards,” Guy enunciates clearly, leaning forward so that he is not misunderstood. “And I don’t care what they find, only that you will be captured and executed as you have long deserved.”

Robin stares at him, brows furrowed, trying to parse some meaning from this old threat. Guy stares back, as taut and mean as a hound, looking amazingly dangerous despite his shackled nakedness. There are still traces of white on his chin.

“I’ll go,” Robin says softly. He leans backwards until he can reach his bow, and then he scoots off the bed in search of his quiver. He does up his trousers in silence, aware of the malevolent presence behind him.

When he looks back, Guy is looking not at him but at the headboard, where the hook curves out from the wall. He looks haggard and hollow-eyed. Robin deals in spontaneous solutions, ideas that come to him like miracles, the right thing to say like a lightning bolt out of nowhere. But now, he can’t think what the right thing would be, not while he unties the rope from his belt, and not while he secures it to the big cherrywood chest under the window. He tries a couple times, even opening his mouth once, but no brilliant words come. The absence makes Robin feel ashamed.

Guy isn’t watching as Robin rappels out the window into the night beyond the castle, but a minute after Robin reaches the ground, his rope comes hissing down in thick coils. Robin squints upward but cannot see if Guy looked out or not.

Probably not.


End file.
